This Week in Milford

November 25, 2020

“This Is Not Our Chance. Chance Macy Is Our Chance.”

Okay folks, I know I’ve been losing a couple of steps here and there but at what point did we see these two mooks actually encourage their teammates to take sides in their competition? Did they not start talking “Team Rapson” and “Team Thayer” of their own volition? And at what point did the fire hydrant-shaped Corina grow to be as tall as Rapson and nearly as tall as Thayer?

The wackiness of this setup just gets wackier when Corina suggest they go at it with chairs WWE style and just trash the place. Maybe this is how she really ended up at Valley Mod and all that talk of supporting her depressed mom was just a facade. Better they go at it with butter knives at five paces. There’s an ex-Mudlark at State U who could give ’em a few pointers.

November 24, 2020

Mudlarks with Filthy Souls

Well surprise, surprise, surprise! Rapson enters Casa Karenna only to find Thayer manspreading across Corina’s sofa. Didn’t realize Will had such enmity toward Rapp, but then again he might just be pissed that his quarterbacking rival has turned into a potential blocker. I’ve already used up my Fight Club references and I’m really hard pressed to come up with any explanation of what we’re seeing here that doesn’t quickly devolve into pornography. So have at it, ya filthy animals.

Being Milford, this is going to end in the most nonsexual way possible. Also being Milford, my money is on Gil putting up Mimi to put up Corina to do his job for free what he could not: get his quarterbacks – and, by extension, the rest of their teammates – to play nice with each other, again in the most nonsexual way possible.

Metapost: Now In for tdrew, Joan Rivers

Filed under: metapost — teenchy @ 1:42 pm

I completely overlooked the fact that tdrew was going to be away today. Have been busy with work but will get a post up directly.

November 23, 2020

CK One, Acqua Di Gio Zero

Filed under: Exploding Eyeball Syndrome, huge earrings — nedryerson @ 4:34 am

Rapson, bathed in cologne, is dropping by CK’s place ready to pitch some serious woo when…

Uh oh, CK has cooked up a zany plot by inviting another guest to this little get together. The mystery guest is most likely Will Thayer and CK’s scheme is like a sitcom trope of the precocious kids arranging their separated parents to meet somewhere to orchestrate a reconciliation. Oh that darned CK. What a scamp!

Is this plan going to work? Will these two idiots pull their heads out of their butts? At least they’ll probably stop fixating on getting into CK’s pants since it would appear that this gesture is taking that possibility off the board. Unless…

Maybe CK has something freaky in mind. Yuck. Forget I said that. Maybe CK needed a fourth for bridge and the mystery guest is Tom Muench (who is quite the card sharp…or might be for all we know).

November 21, 2020

A Shot in the Dark

Oh geez, here we go again with the volleyball girls who finish each other’s sentences. This schtick is getting old, just like everything else in this fall arc. (Don’t try getting your left hand and wrist that close to your face at that angle like the dark-haired girl in P2. We don’t have any chiropractors on staff here.) So what’s with the tiny crack in Corina’s “What football team? I don’t care about the football team” veneer? Does the idea of guys fighting get her all tingly and stuff?

Now for the mildly interesting cliffhanger that might answer that question. It’s been established that Corinna has zero interest in the quarterback boys. So why the h-e-double-hockey sticks is she inviting Rapp over to her place on a school night? Time for a “shot” to impress mama Karenna by sitting in on a hot game of Uno? Or is mama Karenna off to therapy and Rapp’s “shot” is to steal as many bases as possible off the catcher? Oh, it’s high ribaldry at its best! And it’s about to start – let’s watch!

Boys will be boys

Filed under: Coach Kaz, football, kaz-bot, Kelly Krystek, Milford Idiots — robmize2013 @ 5:43 pm

As the tension mounts between the 2 erstwhile signalcallers solely due to hoping a chick who doesnt give a hoot about football likes each of them more, Marty notices whats going on and says its a first for the Milford program to have 2 players not getting along. He’s sure developing Alzeimers if he thinks its never happened before in 50 years of this dreck.

Hey a guy who fought a time or 2 in his day is trying to break them up. Kaz surely remembers his referee appearance in 2013 with Gil vs Herk the Mauler:

…or his boxing academy in 2007…


So at any rate he’s got the experience if the 2 QB’s wanna settle it in the ring.

Hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving!

November 19, 2020

No, Rosey, Winning At Milford Is Like Brushing Your Teeth.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:50 pm

Whoa, Nelly. Nothing like a juvenile Roosevelt Grier to come in and do what he should have done at the BEGINNING of the plot, not after Gil belatedly rung out Frick and Frack for not being team players/getting distracted by a girl who’s not a team human being. Good call, Thorpiverse. This is like General Philip Sheridan (“…only good Indian is a dead…”) sending in reinforcements a day after Little Big Horn. Gee, Rosey, you were in the group doing all the calisthenics. You didn’t notice the sniping? Oh, you were at the water cooler from heat exhaustion, I understand. Otherwise, you would have used your helmet, to paraphrase Ernest P. Worrall in “Ernest Goes To Camp”, to jack a few jaws and pass out some knuckle sandwiches. No catering trucks needed (we hope-Jay’s Tas-Tee Knuckle De-Lites??-my my) . Luhm will sweep up the loose teeth later on. Right now, you’re just trying to send a message.

And why are we still lingering on this “No ‘I’ in ‘Team'” concept? You’d think that after Gil gave a stern lecture that could be heard from his office to the Mediterranean Sea that they would have learned and we were waiting with bated breath for that lesson to be applied in the Jefferson game. But like Pete Townshend sung, Stardom in Milford, that’s all they got. And oodles of rain.

Okay, so maybe the NEXT game, they’ll start heading in the same direction. Because the only time that really happened in the Jefferson game was on the bus ride home. And they STILL weren’t talking to each other. But they weren’t really doing that BEFORE the game. Hello. Gil’s tirade was just a weatherman’s forecast of 80% chance of showers? The weatherman getting it right was little consolation. And so was a plot misdirection. Next time, Thorpiverse, don’t wait for the game AFTER the game with the awaited Real World Model to make your point. Goofus and Gallant would never wait until the NEXT issue to preach that good manners and walking old ladies like Dr. Pearl or her ancestors across the street and holding the door for women at The Bucket or not telling Mimi there’s a fly in the Country Tyme Lemonade is essential for a starting position at quarterback and getting caterers like Jay’s Subs or Nick’s Pizza to cater the rain-soaked contest with Jefferson.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Jay’s Subs Delivery Driver for delivering these 128, 564 subs to this game. That monsoon must have been terrible. Would a $3000 tip cover it?”

“Nahhhhh, I work for peanuts and the good of mankind. When I see those kids chowing down in a downpour, it hits me right here. Working for Coach Thorp gives me warm fuzzies. Just send the money to the Valley Alternative Used Book Fund.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Dr. Pearl To Appoint Sergeant Schultz As Head School Patrolman At School Board Meeting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Expertise in handling of POW’s cited, particularly in addressing issues in school parking lot.”

And here we go again with stupidity shot at us from another angle. Like I’m going to go to Coach Thorp and say “Coach, put me back in. I want to run up the score and 56-3 isn’t good enough for me. We can make it 80 before time expires. We’re wearing them out.”

Like Coach Thorp is going to respond “Sure. You left too many damn points on the table anyway. I told you to eat your vegetables and do extra push-ups. If you’d done them upside-down, the score EASILY would have been 70-3.”

Trust in Christ because Gil don’t sponsor no flops.

Larry Bird played for Springs Valley High School, essentially a consolidation of his hometown, French Lick (as in “Hick from…”) and West Baden Springs, right down the street from French Lick, and his teams were decent and beat up on a lot of the Southern Indiana schools in the area but found the Bloomington schools and the pesky ones like Jasper and Loogootee to be the bugbear, as those schools were with ANY of the other schools, especially at Sectionals and Regionals and beyond. But one of the reasons why he was a top player was his coach had him convinced that if he was practicing 100 free throws, the superstar at Paoli High School or Crawford County High School was practicing 101 FREE THROWS. 500 jump shots? Dude down the pipe at Bedford or Vincennes was practicing 501 JUMP SHOTS.

“Great throw, Rapp. You upped the score to 71-3. I knew you had it in you.”

Coach Thorp butts in

“Yeah? Well there’s somebody shooting lay-ups on the courts of French Lick who would have blocked the field goal. You need to practice penetrating the defense 501 TIMES!!!!!!!!!! And hitting the tire with your throws 502 TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You think the moral of this story, judging by P1, is you can never be too far ahead of your competition?

Hi Crystal. This is how familiar I am with Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. With COVID-19, they are STILL busy. Keep moving those cars in and out. And people were coming in and out for gas too. And they have excellent gas at great prices. Then come down the hill to Mike Smith Firestone in New Albany, Indiana. They were also busy despite the pandemic. Their parking lot was full of automobiles. Looks like job security to me. Folks, if you’re in the neighborhood, come on down and get treated right like these two businesses have treated me and my dad. You won’t be sorry.

Support Small Business. You need to go where everybody knows your name. They know mine.

Rosey, you’re missing the point and I’m not talking about the ones Rapp or Thayer should have scored if they didn’t have their heads lodged up their butts from all the rain.

Rapp never said he was bitching about his PT. He was complaining that the score could have been higher. And that could have been Thorp imposing another tight leash on things, particularly Rapp, who was loose in his interpretation of the playbook. In other words, Rapp could have had beaucoup playing time (we’ll never know, T-verse is into soap operas, not statistics) but all he did was just gift-wrap the football to Charlie Roh or Chance Macy and any deviation from that plan as going to be severly punished. Flutie Miracles was going to earn running steps up and down the station until the break of dawn.

Now, Rosey, as long as you’re going to get your jock strap stuck up your hind end over questionable motives, I’ll concede that PT is an issue. And Rapp was complaining about that, no doubt. But really, the overriding gripe was Gil’s wrenching Rapp’s game into a vise grip so that the quarterback was the Salvation Army passing out toys to kids at Christmas.

What do you WANT Rapp to say?

“This game went longer than Hall & Oates ‘I Can’t Go For That’ but Coach Thorp knew what he was doing. This time he bought a notebook at the bookstore so that he could carefully calibrate everybody’s playing time. I know I got my share. Hey, Rosey, as Groucho Marx once said, ‘From each according to his ability to each according to his need’. I’m glad he didn’t pad the game against these scrubs. The other coach put in his junior varsity? Classy of Coach Thorp to keep the score within 50. The freshman game ought to be a cinch. He’s got my early vote for Valley Coach of the Year.”


The John Fogerty rocker may be a bit loud, sorry to say.

Satisfied, Rosey?

If ya got 1000 dead squirrels in the back of yore pickup and ya got the cab cover on ’em so that rain don’t spoil the meat when ya skin ’em cuz yore daddy said told ya when ya wuz 11 years old that yore spelling bee buddy wuz out in the woods treein’ with the bloodhounds and sub-se-cuent-lee killin’ 1001 squirrels behind yore garage, ya might be a redneck.

“And remember, Gil, there’s another coach in the Valley Conference who’s working on getting it on the green 10,001 times.”

“Shut up, Kaz, and let me putt.”

And to continue this confrontation that’s more stink than poop between Rosey and Rapp

“….playing time?”

“Not really. If I was, I wouldn’t be taking ‘The Gospel According to Gil’ that the Gideons pass out at the stadium entrance. I am complaining about your breath. Did you have some Wheaties with Nutra-Sweet before kickoff? And do you need for me to spray D-Con on your face?”

At least the fans look like people in the background. I was worried that the Zombies had infiltrated the stadium again. T-Verse must have heard the complaints. Who wants to go through the turnstiles with a buzzed-out butthole determined to eat you alive? That IS running up the score when your team is losing or about to lose. We have enough on our minds. T-verse must have called for extra security.

At the State Department of Public Instruction, in the Commissioner’s Office

“And remember, Dr. Pearl, there’s always somebody filing 10,001 reports before the deadline…”

Is P3 going to start ANOTHER PLOT???? I was half-joking the other day on my other post but looks like T-verse is serious about continuing the travesty. We missed the part where Rapp and Thayer kiss and make up and prove to be a two-headed monster against Jefferson. That would have been a nice way to round out a runaway plot, Godzilla and his Siamese twin scaring the Jefferson players off the gridiron and Milford winning by forfeit. The fake scenery as in the movies where you can see all the plywood that comprise the Empire State Building or Mudlark Stadium still might have been dicey but the important thing is that Rapp and Thayer lived happily ever after and we could use the hook on Peppermint Potty and get her off stage and sweep the rest of her baggage and that particular plot thereof under the shag carpeting.

But it was not to be. Now it’s Rosey’s and Thayer’s turn to argue and cuss and body-slam each other over how the team should be run even if you realistically have coaches (supposedly) foot the bill on that one. But in Milford, why let truth get in the way of bad plot development?

“He’s a selfish bastard who only thinks of padding his stats and throwing chair patterns when 10 guys are covering his receiver because he has a flair for the dramatic even if the game’s on the line and it’s 1st-and-goal on the 1-yard-line and a simple plunge in the end zone will win the game. What about it?”

“Your mother wears army boots when she’s plunging in the end zone!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lord, please, I beg of you, don’t let this carry past Thanksgiving. In Jesus’ Name.

“And remember Mimi, somebody out there is grilling 10,001 London broil steaks. And mixing 10,001 gallons of Country Tyme Lemonade. Can’t let The Naked Chef beat you.”

I was not going to say ANYTHING about the trees. I was going to be nice for once.


We used to observe those globules on a slide when we put it under a microscope. Then took notes of it and turned it in as part of our lab assignments. Man, the paramecium is spreading all over the Shiny Happy People sky. That or one side of the herbiage or mismanaged forestry project received a hefty helping of Miracle-Gro. At the rate it’s going, some satellite may crash into it and cause an ugly mess on the field. And we’re already dealing with one between Thayer and Rosey. Many cuss words and finger-pointing but no damaged satellites near the concession stand. Just hope to God Challenger isn’t flying anywhere near the overnourished horticulture. Talk about seeing the forest from the trees. I think the forest swallowed the trees. It shows.

“And Grier and Thayer are at each other’s throats. Geez Louise, you’d think the team lost. Well, under a Coach T. team, you never know what could happen. Reasonable adults are there to separate the two. And we’ll back after sanity is restored. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

In French Lick, at the basketball courts off Larry Bird Boulevard, Mrs. Shaw pulling off Indiana 56

“Honeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I’m horrrrnnnnnyyyyyyy. And what are you doing shooting lay-ups?”

“Quit bothering me, Mrs. Shaw. I’m working to get to the top of my game. You play the way you practice. If you lollygag on these bunnies, you might as well throw it in Patoka Lake down the road because you won’t be prepared to make the easy 2 when the opening tip meets opportunity.”

“Honey, I had a different idea of laying up. And the West Baden Hotel is a wonderful place. I have a reservation with a bed that’s comfy enough for the both of us.”

“No way!!!!!!!!!!!! Gil always told me that if I’m going to take Milford Parks & Recreation Men’s Industrial League Basketball seriously, that somebody, once he clocks out on second shift at Milford Foundry is coming here to French Lick and practicing 10,001 lay-ups. I’ve already done 1,745 of them. I might need to break and go down to Huck’s to get a Slushee and Subway for a $5 Footlong for dinner but I’m in this for the long haul.”

“Darling, put the basketball down and come wid your widdle bunny wabbit and have some fun.”

“Mrs. Shaw, you don’t get it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those lay-ups plus those 10,001 staggered wind sprints will not only help me beat that team of losers at Milford Foundry by at least 20 points, I’ll be more solid than the asphalt I’m practicing on. I already can run faster than those buggys the Amish drive around here.”

“I bet the horses have more fun than we do. And the Amish too, for that matter.”

“Look, I read an article where things like rebounding off the backboard 10,001 times enhances male performance. I’ll not only outrebound anybody that the Rec League throws at me but I’ll be Tarzan of the West Baden Hotel.”

“Jane would love to see you there.”

“Oh, I will. But you can’t just turn on and off male performance like a water faucet. That’s why I’m practicing 10,001 free throws. I’ll be hornier than the coyotes in Hoosier National Forest after hitting nothing but nylon. And don’t even think of taking me on in H-O-R-S-E. I’ll go Mr. Ed on you while reaching climax.”

“I bet Mr. Ed goes to bed with his honey before you beat Larry Bird in H-O-R-S-E.”

“She had me there. And my feet were getting sore from getting up on the asphalt from all those suicide drills. It was time to ‘fess up on my problem and hit Milford Men’s Clinic. With proven treatment programs that work, West Baden Springs Hotel was a welcome sight to put my masculinity to the test. I did better in bed than at the 3-point line. My percentages were better anyway. Come solve your own double dribble problems and get out of the 3-second lane before the refs cry foul. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

Rosey ought to mind his own damn business. But you tell him. I don’t have the guts.

God bless you, Gang.

Mike Knappe calling Domino’s Pizza

“That’s right, it will be this Sunday at Milford Softball Complex Diamond #1… Of course, the tournament is still on…No, I only want 4,000 pepperoni pizzas…No. No!!!!!!! No Lowenbrau!!!!!!!! High School Athletic Rules prohibit alcohol consumption…Sure, we’ll take all the Breath-Mints you can stuff in the garbage bag…Got it? Cool…Thank you, we’ll be waiting, and remember, Nick’s Pizza is assembling 10,001 Turkey Stroms even as we speak, so get a move on…”

“Colonel Jessup, did you order Coach Thorp to carry out the Code Red????”

YOU’RE GODDAM RIGHT I DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Which player? There were three of them.”

November 18, 2020

I’m Just Saying, But Did Milford Cover the Spread?

All action – well, almost all action – today as Milford dominates Tilden. Tom “Don’t Call Me Butt” Muench is all over the field, stripping oversized footballs and causing Theismannesque leg injuries.* Chance Macy, perhaps the most realistically drawn player we’ve seen in some time**, racks up the yardage and probably scores some points. Quick cut to the sidelines where a lineman who appears to be part flounder makes an aside to a young Sylvester Stallone that maybe the Mudlarks should have run up the score.

The Chekhov’s guns left strewn about over the past few strips are leading us to a logical conclusion that the Valley title will boil down to point differential. Either out of a sense of sportsmanship or of continued punishment, Gil will keep Stallone Rappson on the bench when his free-wheeling style of play would be more likely to help Milford obtain those margins of victory necessary to win the Valley. Someone will have learned a lesson, though I’m not sure who will learn it or how valuable that lesson will be.

In any event, it’s more entertaining than watching Corinna be a bitch to everyone she meets.

*Thirty-five years ago today. What a coincidence.

**Sticking with the NFC East theme, whenever I see a running back wearing #31 and an OPO-DW style face mask my mind goes immediately to Wilbert Montgomery.

Older Posts »

Blog at